


after-hours

by minnow_writes



Series: vampires in suburbia [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 2nd Person, F/F, femme domme(s), submissive butch, supernatural milf(s) - that you fuck!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28519383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minnow_writes/pseuds/minnow_writes
Summary: tangent installments of vampires in suburbia, focusing on other characters.
Relationships: Reader/Original Character(s)
Series: vampires in suburbia [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089131
Kudos: 8





	after-hours

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the succubus, Tessa, we meet in part 3 of _the lady beaumont series._ You and Heather’s plans for the afternoon are diverted by an annoyance in the HOA that Heather has to deal with. Instead, you spend the afternoon with Tessa.
> 
>  **Content tags:** actual dick, age gap, aphrodisiac, femme blowjob, femme domme, messy, milf(s), monster cock, submissive butch

“I know we had plans this afternoon, god, I’m so sorry.” Heather scrolls through the texts on her phone, rubbing her forehead. You give her a reassuring kiss on her shoulder. “I usually don’t have to deal with this shit,” she grumbles, “but this is one of those things that will be hell to deal with next board meeting if I don’t shut it down _now_. Caroline’s a fucking menace as the head of the HOA.”

“Where do you want me to be?” you ask. “I can leave and we can make plans later this week.”

“I’d hate to just leave you alone. Why don’t you go see Tessa?” Heather suggests, texting something quick. “I sent you her address. I’m sure she’d love to see you. Trust me when I say I wish you could stay for longer,” she sighs, cupping your cheek. “But I must keep the insurgents in line.”

“Are you sure Tessa will be okay with me showing up unannounced?”

“You’ll be welcome company, though she might not admit it since she spends so much of her time being broody.” Heather smiles. “Or you’ll be free food delivery.”

“Oh!” Heat blooms in little patches on your cheeks. “Right.”

Heather’s phone begins buzzing with **CAROLINE** on the screen. She gives you one last apologetic look. “See you later, dear,” she says, then picks up with a venomous “ _Hello,_ Caroline _…”_

* * *

You’re not exactly sure what you’re expecting with Tessa’s place. An upscale condo? Alright, makes sense, she’s sophisticated. But beyond that? You think that it might be even more modern and streamlined than Heather’s, minimal and clean. Or maybe she skips the décor and there’s nothing but sex equipment in there.

…Would you really mind that?

You step off the elevator and find her door number. Take a deep breath. Give the door a few solid knocks.

“It’s open,” Tessa calls from inside.

When you open the door, you definitely could not have expected Tessa’s condo to feel so…

Cozy?

She’s decorated the place with earthy tones and plants – tons of plants – in pots big and small, hanging from the ceiling, near the humongous windows that overlook part of downtown. There are a few candles burning on her mantle, filling the place with a warm, spicy scent. There’s lots of little decorations that seem to fit just where they’re meant to be, some that look a little…not-of-this-realm. Tessa lounges in a couch in front of a fireplace with a book whose title isn’t visible.

“I figured Heather would eventually send you my way,” she says, not looking up from her book. “She’s been telling me how the HOA’s been brute forcing up her ass. It was only a matter of time _that_ would boil over into a small suburban crisis.”

Your teeth gnaw at your lower lip, holding back a reflexive apology. _You’ll be welcome company, though s_ _he might not admit it since she spends so much of her time being broody._

Instead, you decide to close the door. You slide your hands into your pockets and walk into the living room, taking everything in more carefully: the high ceilings, the plant varieties – some of which you’ve never seen – the woven rug, the trinkets that nestle themselves next to pots, candles, stacks of books. Some look modern. Others look so old you wouldn’t dare touch them for fear of them disintegrating (or fear of turning spontaneously into a frog, since some of their gold-leafed titles are in a strange language).

You stop wandering around and look at Tessa, who seems to be reading, but holds herself like she’s listening to you.

“This is really nice.”

“What were you expecting?” she asks, flipping a page.

“A sex dungeon?”

“How prejudiced of you.”

There’s a smile in her voice, though she still hasn’t looked at you. It’s a definite one-eighty from when you first met her at dinner a few weeks ago. Then, she was all but eviscerating you on the spot. Now, things feel…softer. Though she isn’t as outwardly warm with you as Heather, you think that this isn’t a common dynamic between her other sexual partners.

“You know, Heather never told me how you two know each other.”

Tessa hums. “I had the unfortunate luck of meeting Heather about three hundred years ago. My father had dragged me along to some boring ambassadors meeting in France.” She wrinkles her nose. You try not to look too dumbfounded at how casually she recalls the pre-revolutionary era as though it was yesterday. “I didn’t want to go, of course. Whichever Louis that was reigning at the time stunk to high heaven. A friend of hers was hosting a salon, so I threw the best temper tantrum I could, got on my father’s last nerve, and he sent me off to that instead. Heather was there, naturally.”

“So it was lifelong friends from there?”

“Mortal enemies,” she corrects. “Like oil and water. We began arguing about something immediately and got kicked out. Then we went to one of the underground clubs for lesbians, and competed to see who could seduce the most women.”

The image of them bickering and flirting at the same time makes you smile. “Who won?”

“The fact that you even thought to _ask_ that question,” she scoffs. “When I had to go back to England, she insisted on knowing my address so she could continue to be arrogant and detestable by mail.”

“…Did you give it to her?”

“Of course,” she says, as though it was obvious. “I couldn’t let her think she had won, now.”

You digest all of this, and find a chair near the couch to sit in. “So why did she invite you over if you hate each other so much?”

Tessa huffs and flips a page with a little more flourish than necessary. “Because she likes flaunting what she has.” She glances at you from over her book, and while there’s a little bit of that intensity always there, for now it’s just lingering. “And though she won’t ever admit it, she knew I was the best for the job.”

Sometimes you hate that you blush so easily. “I, um,” you gesture vaguely with your hand, “I agree.”

Tessa gives you a cryptic look. Instead of jarring you like last time, it feels like she’s underneath the chair, hiding, like she’s going to spring out of nowhere and drag you under.

But no such surprise comes. “Naturally,” she says dismissively, and returns to her book.

That is not what you expected – nor what you wanted to happen. You want to know what she was thinking just now. Furthermore, you _want_ her to jump out of nowhere and drag you somewhere dark. You pop a few knuckles absentmindedly to divert the sudden tension in your body.

Tessa pays you no mind.

And for once, you start not thinking before you speak. “What are you reading?”

She doesn’t look up. “Nothing important.”

You get up and approach her on the couch. She keeps reading.

And so you pluck the book from her hands, close it, and set it on the coffee table.

Raising her eyebrows, she clasps her hands in her lap carefully before turning and giving you a disdainful look. “That was rude.”

“You said it was nothing important,” you counter, never having felt this bold in your life, let alone with a succubus whose countenance can flip from controlled to feral in the blink of an eye. You move her hands and situate yourself in her lap. She pretends that she’s unaffected, but when her hands settle on your thighs they twitch, like she wants to squeeze them.

“And you’re _more_ important?” Tessa digs in a way that’s cold, but only at the surface.

Your burst of confidence is fading but _god_ , you desperately want to see this through. “I’m your guest,” you say with absolutely no assertiveness, though you definitely put forth the effort, “so yes.”

The fact her hands haven’t moved an inch on your thighs is infuriating, and they’re beginning to burn through your jeans. “Well,” she sighs, but when she looks at you, you can _tell_ she’s hungry, “you have my attention.”

That’s all the permission you need. You kiss her, and _this_ is when she strikes, springing out of nowhere like a snake you didn’t see on a trail, digging her nails into the meat of your thighs, licking into your mouth, biting at your lip. You liquefy right there, sinking further into her lap and moaning against her. She’s not as unhinged as when you first met, but she takes grip of you in a different way, now. Kissing her is still a thrill, but now it’s like hearing a pack of wolves in the distance of a dark forest, or peering over a steep cliff instead of tumbling down it, or standing stock-still when you know something dangerous, toothy, and red-eyed is right behind you.

You’re not sure if the wolves are going to find you, or if your foot will slip, or if the creature will strike, but you hold your breath with trepidation, as always, waiting to see where she takes you.

Instead of domineering you like last time, she encourages your hands to explore as they please. So you do. She still controls the pace, clearly, and you’re more than happy to follow, but you eagerly run your hands along the smoothness of her shoulders, the sturdiness of her torso, the swell of her breasts – that earns you a fanged nip and growl, to your terrified delight – the curve of her hip. She wiggles, just barely, but doesn’t tell you to do anything.

Like she wants you to do it all on your own. Like she wants you to find something.

A lump rolls down your throat. Your fingers trail over her waistband. She hisses a little, the black tip of her tongue flicking past her lips. A throb yanks itself against your entire abdomen, and oh, _does_ she feel that, _taste_ that with a guttural growl.

That healthy, hot kind of fear begins to creep back into your chest, and you get to work taking off her sweats and underwear.

When you finally get them off, they slide out of your hand and onto the floor unceremoniously. It feels like the temperature of the room has cranked up about a hundred degrees. The sexual tension in the air hangs thick and heavy, and for a few moments, all you can hear is your own slow inhales and exhales and pulse in your head.

You’re fixated on a vertical slit of flesh just above her pubic bone. It’s about as long as your index finger, and thinner hair grows around it like it’s something that belongs there. This is _not_ something you saw when you first had sex. It’s not a wound, clearly, or else hair wouldn’t be framing it. It looks like labia minora, but the lips – if that’s what you can call them – are very low-profile. Nothing else, though, at least that you can see.

Other than that it’s a little wet, or looks to be, on the inside.

With the same kind of foolhardy horniness that got you an earful from Cass the first time you fucked Heather, you slide down the couch and grip Tessa’s hips, inspecting the slit for a solid two seconds before your impulsiveness overtakes you and you give it a very wet, very sloppy kiss.

Tessa’s hand is in your hair and pulling so hard you see stars.

Absolutely thrilled by whatever the fuck this is – and Tessa’s response – you wedge your tongue into it and lick, bottom to top.

“ _Fuck,”_ she growls at a register twice deeper than should be possible, which might scare you for real if you were a normal person, but instead it scares you in the horny way because you’re _not_ a normal person, and thank god for that. You do it again.

Something nudges against your tongue.

You blink and draw back. It’s the tip. Of a cock. Kind of triangular. Juts out a little towards the bottom. It’s dark in color, reminiscent of her tongue.

The look in Tessa’s eyes indicates she’s in another dimension entirely and anchoring herself to reality by her grip in your hair. Her fangs are fully out and you think she might be salivating. Normally, you’d go up there and kiss it away, but there’s something else _much_ more fascinating vying for your attention.

Succubus cock.

 _Retractable_ succubus cock.

You think briefly back to what Heather did to you under the table, and give it a broad lick underneath its tip. Tessa shudders and hisses and pulls your head closer. It emerges further from the slit. What’s interesting is that it’s completely flexible, can curve independently in any direction. It seeks out your mouth, like it has a mind of its own.

Well, who are you to deny Tessa’s hot cock, anyway?

You lick it from base to tip, which at this point is about three or four inches – but doesn’t stay that way for long, as more of it – and it gets thicker as it comes out – slides out, wet and glistening now in the light.

It’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen.

“ _Please_ tell me you’re in the mood for aphrodisiac,” Tessa pants. “Because otherwise,” she swallows and her fingers twitch against your scalp, like she’s trying to wrestle back that feral part of her from jumping out of her chest, “this is going to be a very difficult affair.”

You never plunged your head on a dick so fast in your life.

Tessa’s back heaves off the couch and she _snarls –_ full on _snarls_ – as her cock greedily presses into your mouth. You’ve hardly stroked on it once when a spurt of warm liquid hits your tongue. It’s not salty, and it’s a little thin, but the feeling when you swallow is _extremely_ familiar, except instead of that honey-gooey feeling, it hits your system like a shot of cinnamon whiskey: hot and spicy at first before pooling finally in your gut and spreading out, low and warm and _mmmm._

Oh, you want more of _that_.

With renewed vigor, you work your tongue around Tessa’s cock, anchoring yourself by pressing down on her hips as she twists and growls. One of your hands finds its way to the base and wraps around it, and to your surprise it’s suddenly gotten _very_ slick. Too slick to be a product of your saliva alone. You pull off of it briefly with a _pop_ to get some air and you notice that a clear, thick, viscous liquid is rolling down the back of your hand. When you pull away experimentally, it’s stringy connections sag.

Because you can’t help but investigate further, you lick up as much of it as you can until you can feel the wet, smooth skin of Tessa’s cock, and then stroke it with your hand a few times. It’s quickly covered again by the same slippery stuff, getting caught between your fingers and dripping all over.

 _Self-lubricating_ retractable succubus cock. You make eye contact with Tessa.

“I want you to do something.”

Tessa just stares, licks her lips like she wants to devour you.

“I want you to fuck my mouth.”

That’s the last thing you say for a _while_ because as soon as you’re looking back at her dripping, hard cock she’s pushing your head down onto it and it’s pushing in past your lips, wriggling in across your tongue and she shudders – another spurt of aphrodisiac hits the back of your throat, to your delight, filling you with a heady, hot, warm tingly feeling – and so you bear down and _suck_ , and her cock practically rams into you at the next thrust. A mixture of saliva and lube dribbles off your lips and _fuck_ you can’t help but start to grind aimlessly against the couch cushion, which is far too plush to offer any sort of relief. The edging just throttles you higher as more aphrodisiac begins to pour in a steady stream in your mouth.

It takes that pool of warm in your gut and sets it on _fire._

You whine desperately around her, pushing your head further in, greedy for more. You don’t just want the aphrodisiac, you want her to cum in your mouth, _god_. She’s really just holding your head steady – her cock is doing all the work, slithering in and out, an appendage with a mind of its own. You want more, _fuck_ , you want _more._

It seems like she does too, because her cock slides _into_ your throat.

Normally, you have a strong gag reflex. But the aphrodisiac must’ve done something, because you’re sitting there and letting it happen, relaxed and open. It doesn’t go far – really, it’s the tip and some change – but it’s enough to make you so horny you rake your blunt nails down her hips and thighs and whimper.

It retracts almost fully, just so the tip is sitting at the front of your mouth, lets you get some air, and then it begins pumping _hard_ , filling you up and leaking aphrodisiac as it goes. The hot, spicy feeling flares in your ribcage and floods your veins, and you let your eyes flutter closed as you embrace the wonderful feeling of Tessa’s smooth, thick, slippery cock snaking in and out of your mouth and the not-enough of humping against the couch in rhythm with its endeavor.

“Good boy,” she groans, and then cums in your mouth.

It’s so _good._ Every nerve in your body sings as her cock falls against your tongue and pulses, shooting thick, hot spurts of cum into your mouth. Without hesitation you swallow as much as you can – although you can’t get it all, it’s coming out too fast, too much, and some falls past your lips and into the messy pool of lube-saliva-cum that’s on her abdomen, and you’re still humping and wriggling against the couch when suddenly the _not-enough_ nothing becomes _exactly right_

and you come with her cock in your mouth.

You try to open your eyes but black fills your vision because the aphrodisiac in every corner of your body, every fibre of muscle _flares_ , and you’re overcome with such a tidal wave of heat that you pull yourself off Tessa’s cock, gasping, shaking. When you finally fall back to earth, your body first registers Tessa fisting your hair, then Tessa moaning. Your vision returns to you and –

“Are you _still_ coming?” you pant.

Tessa clenches her jaw, bares her teeth in a toothy smile and nods, then screws her eyes shut. Her cock seems done but _clearly_ her orgasm is still holding her hostage.

You climb up her body and kiss her, let her rake her nails down your back and shudder and growl and hiss until she comes-to. When she does, you give her a smile.

“So why wasn’t that thing around when we fucked the first time?”

“Oh, it comes and it goes,” Tessa says with a wave of her hand. “Something-something, weird succubus anatomy cycles.”

“Well,” you wipe at your lip and grin, “it certainly _comes_.” Tessa gives you a full-fanged smile at that, and you kiss her again. “You think Heather’s having this much fun with the HOA?”

She laughs hoarsely. “Well, she’s definitely _submitting_ them.” The smirk on her face and twinkle in her eye makes you think that she doesn’t _really_ hate Heather – it’s maybe just something they keep up for old time’s sake.

On cue, Tessa’s phone goes off with **HATE HER (Heather)** popping up on the screen. She picks it up and puts it on speaker. “Hello, o vile one. You know, _your_ little toy just gave me the most mind-blowing orgasm. It lasted for five minutes.”

“ _You’re welcome. I feed you out of the generosity of my cold, vile heart. Otherwise you’d be begging for scraps on the streets, since no one else would want to fuck you.”_

“The twelve women I seduced in 1723 at that bar might say otherwise.”

“ _Dear, you know the French had low standards back then. Can I come over?”_

“I _suppose_ I can let you have the leftovers,” Tessa sighs dramatically, then hangs up before Heather can reply. She tosses her phone on the table and pulls you in. “Lets see if you can make me come again before Heather gets here, hmm?”


End file.
